Bird Turned Queen
by Cards Songbird
Summary: When Songbird has a disaster at Irving Hall, she turns to the newsies. She abadons her past, changes her name, and makes new friends, though some may not be so true. She must deal with the hardships, and she must learn who to trust. She must learn love.
1. Songbird

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

So this is my first story that I'm putting on . It is not my first Newsie story. I've written a lot of them, but I'm not publishing them because they are so terrible. I have a bunch of things planned for this story, and I'm really excited about it. I will try really hard not to make you (if there is anyone even reading this) wait that long for updates. I love this movie and all the characters, and I will try super hard not to ruin it. I will try and do it justice. By the way, not in this particular chapter, but later on I will have some songs in the story. Most of them will be sung at Irving Hall by Songbird, but a couple of them will be by the Newsie characters. Don't be alarmed! I love them too. And I'll only put them in if needed to the plot. But, anyways, I KNOW that they are from (most of them) the 21st century. Just pretend they aren't! Songbird is going to write a couple songs in the story, and I know they were written by other people. I'm not trying to take credit for them. Please remember that and don't sue me please! Now then, Onwards Ho!

**Disclaimer:** Newsies is an amazing movie. If I owned it (and all of its rights ), I would sit at home all day, patting myself on the back and being super proud of myself. I would also being talking to Max Casella ALL DAY! But, alas (*tear,tear*), I don't. The only person I own in this story, so far, is Songbird.

P.S. The ;-) sign means 'end of chapter'.

'Good, very good, girls. I think ve'll call it a day." I quickly changed out of my sweaty dance dress and into my regular trousers and blouse. I tried to put my super thick hair up in a ribbon, but it just kept falling out, leaving my hair messier than before. I really needed to learn how to do it better. I finally just pulled it back in a knot, and I went out to thank Medda. She had been so kind to us girls for teaching us dance lessons in return for us singing every Saturday night at Irving Hall. She may not know it, but it has always been my dream to perform (sing and dance) in front of an audience. And to get too, every week, plus have dance lessons, all for free, I sometimes felt like we were cheating her.

"Thank you so much Medda! You are such a wonderful teacher!" Medda smiled down at me and patted my cheek.

"You're velcome, my little songbird." I smiled at her nickname for me. She had called me that since the first time I sang for her. She also had said that with enough training, I might have a chance at being famous. Of course, she was probably just saying that to be nice, but a girl can dream, can't she? Especially since that _is_ my dream. I don't really care if they know my name, it's just my voice that matters. I want them to remember my voice.

Medda wave a hand in front of my face. "Is anyvone home? Songbird?" I blinked hard at the rush of air from her hand and she laughed. "Is somevone dreaming about Saturday? Are you excited?" I giggled happily.

"I can't wait! You know, this will be the first time I'll be performing. The last two weeks it was the other girl's turns, and the week before, I was sick." Medda smiled brightly.

"I am sure you vill leave them callin for an encore. Vich, by ze vay, you probably should have ready, just in case." I hugged her.

"Thanks for everything, Medda. You really are great." Medda patted my head. It was a nice moment until my stomach had to go and ruin it. That just sent Medda into gales of laughter.

"Vhy don't you go down to Tibby's and get something to eat. And vhile you're at it, could you pick me up a sandvich?" I nodded, thoroughly embarrassed. "Oh, and if a Jack Kelly happens to be there, could you tell him I'd like to speak with him?" I smiled and nodded again. "Zank you, darling, I'm sorry for turning you into an errand boy… er… girl." I shook my head.

"No, it's fine! I owe you so much!" Medda looked me over suspiciously. Then she smiled again.

"Even so, how about I buy you lunch? Here's two dollars. Get my sandvich, and you can have za rest of it." Before I could protest, she had me out the door, and on my way to Tibby's.

I'd never been to Tibby's before, and I had stupidly not asked Medda the way. I thought I might have passed it before, and I walked in the direction I thought it was. While I was walking I realized I had no idea what this 'Jack Kelly' looked like. Oh well, maybe next time.

It was a nice day out. With only a few clouds and a nice breeze, I wanted to sit outside all day. We rarely got sun and a breeze at the same time in New York. It was either broiling hot or freezing cold. Maybe I would eat my lunch outside. That is, if I could find Tibby's. I looked around as I tried to figure out where I was. I couldn't Great, I was lost. Just what I needed when I was getting Medda's lunch. I should've just asked her. I spotted a newsboy shouting out headlines a little ways down the street and I hurriedly approached him.

"Um… excuse me, but do you know how to get to Tibby's?" The boy turned to me and laughed.

"Do I'se evah, miss! I only eat dere every day of da week. I'll be headin dere in bout five minutes. Can ya wait?" I nodded, immensely relieved that I would get to Tibby's after all. The boy held out his hand.

"Me name's Jack Kelly, or some some people calls me Cowboy." I jumped in surprise. "You're Jack Kelly?" The boy smiled proudly. "Ya hoid of me?" I laughed at that.

"Well, sort of. It's just that Medda wanted me to tell you—"

"Ya know Medda?" I sighed inwardly and rolled my eyes. I did not like being interrupted.

"Yes, I do know Medda, and she told me to tell you that she'd like to talk to you." Jack nodded pleasantly. "Thanks fer da message… what was yer name again?" I smiled. I thought for a second before I answered. "Some call me Songbird." Jack raised his eyebrow. "And what do udders call you'se?" I frowned at him before replying, "A pain in the ass." Jack laughed hard at that one.

"You'se alright, kid." I smirked up at him. "Well, gee, thanks, I do try." He smiled again.

"Let's go. I can't wait till de udders meet you'se. Dey'll love ya. 'specially Race. You'll give him a run fer his money." I had no idea who he was talking about, but I did get the part that we were going to Tibby's now, so I followed. ;-)

Okay, so I'm really sorry that was SO short, but hopefully it sparked your interest. It would have been longer, but out of all that I've written so far, this is the only stopping point. The next chapter will be much longer (hopefully). I know you're all probably bored out of your wits, since the only people you've met is Medda and Jack (don't worry all you Racetrack and Spot lovers). We're going to meet Racetrack, Spot, and Skittery for sure in the next chapter. I haven't finished the next chappie so I don't know who else will be in it. Well, I promise to update soon. Love you! Oh, by the way, I know there isn't much to review on, but it would be nice if you did. Thanks a bunch! (I felt so bad when I was reading all of your guy's amazing stories but couldn't review cause I didn't have an email).


	2. Tibby's

**Bird Turned Queen**

I'm so sorry this one is super short too. I will try really hard to make the next one longer. It's just that after I get to a stopping point, it's really hard to go on, because I want to share it so much. I will try to control myself from now on. Anyways, we meet Race and Spot in this one! Yay!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own newsies, cause if I did, I would be writing an autobiography about how awesome and cool I am, not some stupid fanfiction. And I'd get the whole cast to sign the original copy of my book too . I own Songbird.

The restaurant was packed with newsies. They all cheered when Jack walked in (don't ask, cause I don't know), and then looked curiously at me. Jack put an arm around my shoulders and loudly announced,

"So, dis is Songboid. She's one a Medda's goils." I heard a round of "Hi's", and "How ya doin?"s. I smiled, a little uncomfortably, and waved at them. Jack steered me over to a table that two guys were already sitting at. They seemed to be in a serious game of poker.

"Songboid, dat dere is Skittery." Jack pointed to one of the boys. The boy, Skittery, had a sour look on his face. "And dat—" he was cut off by the other boy.

"Da one and only Racetrack Higgins, at your soivice. What can I do fer ya?" I smuggled a laugh. I tilted my head up to Jack. "What a heartthrob." Jack laughed again. "You'se should get a job doin dat." I looked at him confused. "Doing what?" He smiled. "Well, makin people laugh. You'se shor got me!" I shrugged and sat down next to Skittery.

"Having a bad day?" It was a simple question, but Skittery glared at me. "Hey kid, don't worry bout it." Racetrack pretended to whisper. "He's always in a bad mood." Now Racetrack was under Skittery's 'powerful' glare. A waiter brought my food right as Race yelled, "I win! Tree times in a row, Skits, when'll ya evah loin?" Skittery scowled and left the table. I tried not to smile, but it was hard when Race was grinning crazily at me. I assumed the stakes had been high.

"So," I said, "Are all these newsies from around here?" Race nodded, and suddenly got an evilly mischievous glint in his chocolate brown eyes. He turned to Jack quickly. "Jack, Susan's here." I had no idea who 'Susan' was, but Jack paled and tried to hide under our table. "I'm not here." He whispered to Race and me. I looked at Racetrack, who was now squirming with amusement.

"Well now, who's dis? Ya finally get yaself a goil, did ya Race?" I turned at the hard voice. The boy behind me was probably about my height, and he was resting a golden tipped cane on the back of my chair. He had dirty blonde hair, and… amazing blue eyes. He caught me looking at him and he smirked. "How ya doin doll?" and he tipped his cabbie hat to make his point. And then I did something super embarrassing. I laughed. I know, it was terrible. But the way he was looking at me, with amusement and arrogance (is that even possible?), plus the idea of calling _me_ doll, was just too much. Race was laughing too. He stood up and came over to me.

"Oh, yeah, didn't ya hear Spot? Dis is me fiancé. Da weddin's on Thoisday." I almost fell out of my seat, which wasn't good because Jack was getting out from under the table. The boy, Spot I guess, looked strangely at Jack.

"Jackey-boy, what ya doin undah da table? Hidin from da weirdos here?" He gestured at Race and me, and Jack glared at Race. "Dat was low, Higgins." Racetrack just laughed and gave me a high-five. Spot looked un-amused, and I wondered how many people were having bad days. Then Spot turned to look at me.

"Sine ya 'fiance' doesn't seem ta know ya name, perhaps you'll tell me." I shrugged. "He did tell you. My name is 'Race's Goil'." Spot rolled his eyes at me and turned to Jack. "Ya got a real strange one Jack. Can she even sell a pape widout crackin a joke?" I stopped laughing. "Oh, I'm not a newsie." Spot turned to me again, a frustrated look on his face. "Someone bettah tell me yer name, doll, what yer doin here, and where ya stand wid da newsies." I glared at him. He didn't have to act all high and mighty!

"Fine, if you insist on knowing. My name is Songbird, I'm here is because I'm hungry, and I sing for Medda." Spot suddenly smirked. Okay, so it's not like I have anything against smirks, it's just arrogant smirks that bother me. Spot had an arrogant smirk on his face. I sighed impatiently.

"What are you smirking at?" Spot pretended to look innocent. "Oh nutin, just dat yer name's Songbird. Let's hear ya sing." I scowled deeply at him. The restaurant suddenly went very quiet. They had all heard what Spot said, eerily, and now they were all staring at me. Okay, so you know how I said that I loved singing in front of an audience? Well I lied. I love singing, and I really want to love singing for a crowd, it's just that… I have super bad stage fright. That's why I was 'sick' three weeks ago.

I turned to Spot with a lot more confidence than I felt. "Sorry, but I have to leave now. I guess you'll just have to wait, and come to the Saturday night performance." I smiled sweetly and got up to leave. Spot snorted (I almost died, shudder), and Racetrack winked at me. I waved to Jack and walked out of Tibby's. Great. Now there was absolutely no way out of Saturday. I would have to perform. I really was excited, and I really wanted to, but I also was very nervous, and I really didn't want to. I'll probably mess up, and Medda will throw me out. No, stay positive. I have to think positive. I walked back to Medda's as quickly as I could.


	3. Confidence

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Kay, so here's the next chappie. Thank you so much for the reviews. I couldn't believe how fast people started reading it. I mean I posted it at like midnight, and by noon the next day (today) I already had two reviews. You guys are awesome! So in this chapter there is a song. It's 'Don't Rain On My Parade", and the sad thing is I don't know who originally wrote it. I heard it on Glee. So um… whoever wrote it, you own it. I don't. I'm just pretending that it was written at that time. PRETENDING for the sake of my story. Please DON'T sue. Thanks very much.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own newsies (except for my very own Songbird). I don't own the idea, the music, the characters, the amazingness of itself, the awesome actingness of the actors, the gorgeous blue eyed wonder Spot Conlon, or, sadly, the spectacular tap dancing gambling fantastic accent Racetrack Higgins. And if I go on any more I think I will start crying, so I hope you get the picture. I DON'T OWN NEWSIES!

Medda accepted her sandwich gratefully. "Did you see Jack?" I nodded and told her how I had met Jack. She laughed. She always does. I don't know how she does it either. I mean, if I laughed half as much as she did, I would never be able to sing.

"Medda, I'm really nervous about Saturday." Medda looked at me and took my hand. "If you veren't, I'd be vorried. " She put her arm around me. "Come on. I think I can make you feel better." We walked to the stage. She positioned me in the center. "Now," she whispered in my ear. "Imagine the audience, full, a sell-out. You are in a beautiful gown that sets off your eyes, and every boy you've ever liked is sitting in the front row cheering you on." My eyes were closed and Medda's hands were running through my hair. "Your hair is sweeping over your shoulders in just the right way, and your diamond earrings catch the light." Her hands brushed my hair behind my year, and she said, "Now open your eyes, and sing from your heart." She moved away quickly, and off the stage. My eyes fluttered open to a packed audience. The cheering was in slow motion to my ears, and I opened my mouth and sang.

"Don't tell me not to live,  
>Just sit and putter,<br>Life's candy and the sun's  
>A ball of butter.<br>Don't bring around a cloud  
>To rain on my parade!<br>Don't tell me not to fly-  
>I've simply got to.<br>If someone takes a spill,  
>It's me and not you.<br>Who told you you're allowed  
>To rain on my parade!<br>I'll march my band out,  
>I'll beat my drum,<br>And if I'm fanned out,  
>Your turn at that, sir.<br>At least I didn't fake it.  
>Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it! But whether I'm the rose<br>Of sheer perfection,  
>Or freckle on the nose<br>Of life's complexion,  
>The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye,<br>I gotta fly once,  
>I gotta try once,<br>Only can die once, right, sir?  
>Ooh, life is juicy,<br>Juicy, and you see  
>I gotta have my bite, sir!<br>Get ready for me, love,

cause I'm a commer,  
>I simply gotta march,<br>My heart's a drummer.  
>Don't bring around a cloud<br>To rain on my parade!

I'm gonna live and live now,  
>Get what I want-I know how, One roll for the whole show bang,<br>One throw, that bell will go clang,  
>Eye on the target and wham<br>One shot, one gun shot, and BAM  
>Hey, Mister Armstein,<br>Here I am!  
>I'll march my band out,<br>I will beat my drum,  
>And if I'm fanned out,<br>Your turn at bat, sir,  
>At least I didn't fake it.<br>Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it.  
>Get ready for me, love,<br>'cause I'm a commer,  
>I simply gotta march,<br>My heart's a drummer. Nobody, no nobody, Is gonnaaaaa raiiiiiin on myyyyyyyy paraaaaaaaaade!"

I heard someone clapping. My image of the audience fell away, except for one person near the back. I gaped at him. "Jack, when did you come in?" Jack shrugged. "Well, you'se told me Medda wanted to see me." I nodded, understanding, and I felt myself blush. Had Jack heard me singing? Was he going to laugh at me behind my back, along with Spot, and Skittery, and Racetrack, and all the other newsies?

"Hey, kid, you'se was good. Really good." I looked up, my worries coming to a peak. Was he being sarcastic? "You better not be playing with—" Jack cut me off. "Ya definitely oined yer name." I smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks Jack. That means a lot to me." Jack smiled down at me looking pleased. Then he started probing the auditorium.

"Ya know where Medda is?" I glanced around to see that she was gone. She must have left while I was singing. I shrugged at Jack and said, "Why ask me? Do I look like her mother?" Jack snickered. "As a mattah of fact—", I playfully hit him. "Don't answer that." He grinned and headed backstage. "I'se goin ta look fer Medda. See ya Sataday kid." He waved and left the auditorium. I sat down. How did Medda do that? She just put an image in my brain and it stayed there. The audience had really been there. I could hear them cheering, and I could see them waving their arms, and I could smell their different smells. And I sang. I didn't mess up either. I smiled, confidence brewing inside me. I couldn't wait till Saturday.

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. My hair was being a jerk, as usual. Why couldn't it look nice, just once? I threw my brush against the wall in a sudden surge of anger. This was my special night, the first night I would sing, and my hair was going to be a disaster. Life just wasn't fair. Suddenly the door flew open.

"Vat vas that noise? Are you alright?" I smiled at Medda through watery eyes. The upset look she had on her face immediately changed to a worried one. "Songbird, vat's the matter?" I shook my head, trying not to cry, but a tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away, angry at myself. It's just hair. Forget about it! I smiled again at Medda, this time with a little more control.

"It's just my hair. It sometimes gets a little frustrating." Medda looked at me as if she knew I wasn't telling her everything, but she kept quiet. She didn't say a word while she did my hair. When she was finished I wondered why she didn't have a job doing people's hair. It was pinned p, but with curls falling down around my face. It looked nothing like my real hair. If I had seen it on anyone else, I would've thought it was a wig. But it wasn't. And it was beautiful.

Medda walked to the door and then turned. "You are on in ten minutes. I know you vill do amazing, but listen to me." She looked at me hard. "If you ever need to talk, just come tom. I vant to help you." She smiled sadly at me and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind me. ;-)

I know, I know, I'm so bad. But I decided that these first three chapters are like a prologue, and now the real story will begin. I don't know if the chapters after this will be longer or not, but even if they are short, at least I update quickly. I hope you weren't bored, and how do you guys think I'm portraying Medda? Does she seem right to you? Also, how do you like the friendship between Jack and Songbird? Jack has never been one of my 'favorite' newsies (they are all awesome), but I'm sort of liking him now. Anyways, I promise the next chapter will be more interesting. Also, this is the last bit that I had written in a notebook, that I was just copying onto the computer. Now I'll just be writing on the computer, which'll be nice. Well, plez review, and it'll encourage me to give you a longer chapter. Love you guys!


	4. Disaster

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Hey, here's the fourth chapter. I'm like on a writing roll, so once I'm off it (who knows when), don't blame me if the updates aren't three a day. I hope you like this one. This chapter is all about Songbird, so don't get too bored. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies (that is in real life. In my dream land, that is a completely different story). Don't sue or I'll cry and I won't be able to finish this story. And that would be sad. And it would make me cry even more. Also I don't own the song in this chapter (Smile). It is a nice song, which means I could never have written it. Again I heard it on Glee, but I think it is the Charlie Chaplin one, but please don't sue if I'm wrong. I do own Songbird however. Onwards!

After Medda went out of the room I looked in the mirror. My hair was perfect, my makeup was fine, my dress was gorgeous, but then there was me. I ruined the whole picture. If only I was a prettier maybe the audience would like me more. But no, I was just some ugly girl dressed up, trying to sing a song on stage. I slapped myself mentally. If I thought like that I would be a nervous wreck and who knows what would happen. I put my heels on, and I stood up. I straightened out my deep blue dress and sang a few scales. I thought about what Medda had shown me the other day, and I just _thought_ confidence. It was emblazoned into my brain. There was nothing that was going to ruin tonight. Even if they had to close their eyes to listen. I didn't care about me, I just cared about my voice. That was my motto. 'It's the voice, not the looks that matter.'

I walked down the hall to the stage, and I took deep breaths. One of the older girls was just finishing up the opening song with huge flourish, and the audience was just loving her. As she ended her song with a big, "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!", I told myself there was nothing that could go wrong.

I stepped slowly onto the left side of the stage and waited for my music to begin. As I was waiting my eyes went to the audience. It was almost full. I scanned the people looking for the newsies, and I almost gave up hope when I saw them creeping in near the front. I saw Jack leading Spot, Skittery, Race, and a few other guys into the chairs. Jack waved at me, and Race gave me two big thumbs up. I smiled brightly at them right as my music began. Medda had given me this song, saying it would build my confidence while I sang. I crossed my arms above me and began my song.

"_Smile though your heart is aching  
>Smile even though it's breaking<br>When there are clouds in the sky  
>You'll get by<br>If you Smile through your pain and sorrow  
>Smile and maybe tomorrow<br>You'll see the sun come shining through  
>For you." <em>

As I did my simple dance routine that went along with the song, I couldn't help but smile, no matter how cliché that sounds. Everything was going perfect. I couldn't believe it. Maybe I should stop being so pessimistic.

"_Light up your face with gladness  
>Hide every trace of sadness<br>Although a tear may be ever so near  
>That's the time you must keep on trying<br>Smile- What's the use of crying  
>You'll find that life is still worthwhile<br>If you just smile._

_That's the time you must keep on trying,  
>Smile- What's the use of crying<br>You'll find that life is still worthwhile  
>If you just smile." <em>

I paused in my singing, the piano playing quietly. I did a slow pirouette, and swept low to the audience. That was when I heard a cry from the audience that almost made me stumble. "Get off the stage! You sound like my old granny!" I looked into the crowd, trying to find the offender, but had to stop when my cue to come back in singing arrived. I tried to put a grin on my face as I sang,

_"Smile though your heart is aching  
>Smile Even though it's breaking<br>When there are clouds in the sky- You'll get by—_

"Who taught her to sing? She sounds like nails on a chalkboard. And she's not even pretty! Get off the stage girly!" I turned to the man in the front row who had just shouted the nasty words. His friends started shouting too. They started booing, and as I tried to come back in a tear slipped down my cheek. I was hopeless.

_ "That's the time you must keep on trying  
>Smile- What's the use of crying—<em>

I was suddenly hit by something hard in the stomach. Something wet spilled all over my dress. Whiskey. The man in the front row was laughing hard. "You just said you shouldn't cry and you are! Cry baby! Ha!" That was when I ran.

I ran off the stage, the man's laugh echoing inside my head. I ran out of Irving Hall, my dress still sopped with alcohol, the breeze chilling me. I ran, trying to outrun my tears. Outrun my fears. Outrun everything. It was all ruined. I was a failure. How could I have thought that I could sing? The audience was probably sitting in Irving Hall laughing their heads off at how terrible I was. And Medda. What would Medda think? She would be so ashamed, and after all she did to help me. I felt terrible. Everything was my fault. I thought about how I had been mad about my hair earlier. I was so stupid sometimes. Actually I was stupid all the time. Man, Spot Conlon must be having a laugh now. The newsies! Oh, how they must be snickering. They must think that it was some sort of joke. Spot would have that smug look on his face, and Race would look confused for a minute, but then crack some joke. And Jack. I wonder what Jack would think. Oh well, it didn't matter anymore. I didn't know anything. That is I didn't know anything except that I sucked.

I had been walking for a while when the last two lines of the song I'd been singing came into my mind. The ones that had been cut off by the whiskey.  
><em><br>"You'll find that life is still worthwhile  
>If you just smile."<em>

So my life wasn't over. Just my singing life was. I wasn't going back to Irving Hall. That much was for sure. Now, who would help me? Jack! I was pretty sure he would. After all, he was my friend, I think. But, no, then I'd have to meet up with the Manhattan gang. That was one thing I could not handle. After all that had just happened, I didn't have much pride left. But I was going to keep the little I still had. I mulled over my situation for a little while more, before I finally decided the only choice. If I could be humble it just might work. I didn't know him that well, but out of all the people that would help me, he was the best choice. Spot Conlon. ;-)

Okay, another short chapter. I hope that wasn't too depressing. I think I'll probably just stick to short chapters that I update every couple days. I mean this is the fourth chapter, and I published the story last night. I think that is a good sign. Well, please review and tell me what you think. What do you think of Songbird's character? The next chapter should be up soon. We get to have a Spot scene! Do you think someone should warn Songbird about Spot?


	5. Pest

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Hey y'all, thanks for the reviews! They are so encouraging! Here is the next chapter. It is short. That is that. Oh well. I am sorry though, cause I told you this was going to be a Spot chapter but it's not. It did not quite work out. I promise he will be in the next one (actually he kinda has to).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies. If I did I would make a video of me hanging out (and maybe making out) with all the actors, and then rub it in everyone's faces. Alas I don't, so I'm not such a jerk, and I am writing this disclaimer. I do own Songbird, and Pest.

As I walked along the alleyways I attracted quite a few stares. My hair was a mess after all that running, my dress was wet and smelly, and my face didn't help the situation either. My plan was to find a newsie that I didn't know and ask him if he knew where Spot Conlon lived. That shouldn't be too hard. Except, oh let me see, it was a Saturday evening. It was probably the absolute worst night to have the disaster of your life on. Ugh. Just my luck. And anyways, Spot was probably still at Irving Hall. I would just have to camp the night out. And that was going to be fun to do, especially since I had nothing except the stupid dress I had on. I settled down behind some crates, in an empty alleyway, and laid my head against my knees. I was not a good fighter in the least. Actually, if it came down to it, my fighting skills were basically, go crazy, biting, scratching, and all the other stuff. I'd never thrown a punch in my life. So, hopefully, though with my luck who knew, I wouldn't get any late night visitors. I didn't want to have to scream after all the singing I'd been doing lately. I sighed inwardly and thought about what had just happened. It was over. I was never going to sing again. That was that.

I woke up to someone poking my side. I wish I could say that I had leapt up, my fists ready, but in reality I had just groaned and tried to turn over. Except that that was impossible. I was sitting on my rear, my head against my knees, so when I tried to turn over, I just hit wall. I heard someone laughing and I slowly opened my eyes. A little boy, maybe around ten or eleven, was sitting next to me, giggling. I looked at him with sleepy eyes and said, "Who the hell are you?" The boy stuck out his hand amiably and replied, "I'se Pest, on account everyone says I'se annoyin. Who are you'se?" The boy was smiling, like nothing in the world mattered except knowing my name. As I was about to say 'Songbird' I stopped myself. That wasn't my name anymore. I needed a new one. In fact, this little boy could help me. A lot. I took the boy by his shoulders. "Pest, I need your help. You seem like a nice trusting fellow. Can I trust you?" The boy nodded vigorously. I smiled brightly at him. "Good. First of all, are you a newsie?" The boy nodded again. "I'se from Brooklyn." He added helpfully. This was getting better and better. "Pest," I began again. "How does someone join the newsies?" He looked confused for a moment and then said, "Anyone can, all ya gotta do, is buy some papes at da distribution centah, and den ya sell dem. Den ya sleep at da newsies lodgin house, dat is, if ya don't have a family." I was confused. "Wait, what's a newsie lodging house?" Pest looked wondrously at me. "Ya don't know what da LH is?" He shook his. "Kay, da LH is da place where da newsies who don't have a home sleep. Most lodgin houses ya have ta pay ta live in, but in Brooklyn dere's no managah, so it's free. Dat's where I'se live. Spot is da leadah dere." My ears perked up. Spot was a leader? Well, that would explain why he was so arrogant. I tried to contain my smile as I asked, "Do you know where I could get some boy clothes that would fit me?" The boy smiled and said, "Ya got money?" I shook my head slowly. I had left everything at Irving Hall. He grinned wickedly. "Den we'se gotta steal 'em."

Stealing clothes is not a fun thing to do. If you've ever tried, then you know what I mean. Pest kept coming up with 'great' ideas such as, "You'se go in da shop, tell da tailah ya want him ta make ya 'brudder' some clothes. Tell him ya brudder's da same size as you. Den when he's done, run out of da shop widout payin." I had to tell him nicely, that it would probably not work, because I would be on a stool with probably a bunch of pins still in the clothes. It wouldn't be that hard to catch me. We finally decided that we were going to steal the tailor's ad. His window display was a pair of dirty and holey trousers and an old shirt on the left. Those were the clothes that we were going to steal. On the right were a pair of trousers and a shirt that were almost exactly the same except they didn't have any dirt on them, and they didn't have any holes. In the middle was a sign that said,

'O'Malley can fix any piece of clothing, no matter how big the hole, or how large the stain.'

This is how the plan went. I walked in the store and right up to the tailor. While I was distracting him, asking him if he could fix my dress, Pest snuck in, took the clothing, and snuck out. It all worked perfectly, except then the tailor was insistent on fixing my dress. Before I knew it, my dress was off and I was standing in my short shift in the back of the shop. I tried to tell him that I didn't have any money, but he didn't seem to hear me. At least he pretended he couldn't. He seemed too happy to be working on such a 'nice' dress. I decided in a moment. I wasn't staying here any longer. I said quickly, "I'll be back later to pick up the dress!" and I ran out of the store. In my shift. In the middle of the day. Brilliant. I was running, looking for Pest, when he grabbed my arm from behind me. He pulled me into an alley and we stopped for a breather. He handed me the clothes, and I put them on quickly, while Pest turned away politely. I was holding my shift in my hands while Pest looked me over when he said, "You need a hat. Let's go!" And that was when he decided to steal a hat for me. ;-)

There you go. How did you like Pest? Were you glad there wasn't another song in it? I'll try and update the Spot chapter soon. Review, and I will love you forever. Thanks!


	6. Spot

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Kay, so I think this is my longest chapter yet (though it is still uber-short). Yay, Spot is in this one! I hope you enjoy! No songs in this one either!

**Disclaimer:** How many times do I have to say I DON'T OWN NEWSIES! I'm not saying that I wouldn't like to, and I'm not saying that I wouldn't use all my money to buy the rights to Newsies, I'm saying that I (as of right now) DO NOT OWN NEWSIES! UNDERSTAND? So if you sue, I will be very pissed off, and I will go all Spot on you, and beat the crap out of you. YA GET IT? Good. I own Songbird/Cards and Pest.

After snatching a hat off a hatstand nearby, Pest and I ducked into yet another alley. After putting my hair up into my new hat, smearing some dirt onto my face, and practicing a more boyish walk, Pest finally said I was ready to masquerade as a boy. He said I looked like I was a fourteen or fifteen year old boy. So far, everything was going great. On our way to Brooklyn, Pest gave me all the tips he could think of, such as, "Don't annoy Spot!" and "Spot is sometimes a liddle annoyin, but don't fight, contradict, or embarrass him, or it might be da last ting ya evah do." As we walked I couldn't help but wonder, what kind of person Spot was. I had said a few things to him at Tibby's, and he had seen me sing… moving on… but I was a new person. Speaking of new, I needed a new name.

"Pest, do all newsies have nicknames like yours?" Pest nodded. He said, "We all do, 'cept sometimes some of da newer ones don't, but dey always get named by someone. Dat's what happened to me. Spot gave me my name." He looked very proud. I decided, comparing to Pest's name, that I wanted to have a name before I met Spot. After I said that to Pest, he grinned. "Whatdaya like? Do ya like da watah, or da sun, or beer, or—" I cut him off. "I get the idea." I thought about it for a few minutes. I was starting a new life, so I could like whatever I wanted to like. I looked down at Pest. "What do newsies do besides working?" He shrugged his small shoulders. "Fight, swim, play cards." I snapped my fingers. "That's it! Pest, meet Cards." I bowed dramatically at him. Pest laughed. Everyone I knew seemed to do it a lot. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge I hated, for I found out how much I hate bridges. It isn't so much the height, it's just the knowledge that I'm standing on some material way above water and rocks. And air. *shudder*. Anyways, after we crossed, and I had managed to get myself under control from the bridge, we ran into two tall newsies. Their arms were crossed, and they glared at Pest. "Who's dat?" They stared pointedly at me. Pest smiled broadly and said, "Dis here's Cards. I'se just takin him to Spot, cause 'e wants to be a newsis." The two boys grumbled but they let us pass. I could feet their eyes burning into me as we walked away. About ten minutes later we reached the lodging house. It was worn. As we walked up the steps I wondered at all the rich people who wouldn't spend a little money to fix this place up. The lodging house was crowded. Tons of boys were sitting around all over. Some were talking, some were playing cards, some were eating, and some were even sleeping, though I didn't know how with all the noise. The noise, which had been roaring when I first came in, had now dwindled down to a whisper. They all looked at me. I just _love_ being looked at. Especially when I'm pretending to be a boy, and hoping that none of these boys had been at Irving Hall and if they had, hoping that they didn't recognize me. There was awkward silence for a moment until Pest spoke up. "Hey, guys, dis is Cards. He wants ta be a newsie. Where's Spot. We'se gotta talk ta 'im." A voice from behind us suddenly said, "He's right 'ere." I whirled around, almost stumbling, and was eye to eye with the Brooklyn leader. He looked me right in the eye, like he was searching me. Trying to figure me out. I stared right back at him, not letting him think he was better than me, and furiously hoping that he did not recognize me. Finally he nodded. Then he did the most revolting thing I've ever known. He spit in his hand and held it out. I looked at his hand in disgust. But when I glanced at Pest, he was nodding vigorously. So playing the boy, I spit into my hand, and swiftly shook Spot's hand. He smirked. That arrogant smirk. That was going to get annoying. Then, just like that, the tension was broken, and everyone went back to what they'd been doing. Spot brushed past me, he was damp, and as he did he motioned for me to follow him. I waved to Pest, and nervously followed Spot up the stairs of the lodging house. I followed him all the way up to the roof. He didn't say a word to me, the whole three two flights. After I'd closed the door behind me, he turned to me slowly. He looked me over for what seemed like forever before I finally asked,

"Are you really going to stare at me all day?" Spot seemed to come out of his own world, but he managed a half smirk.

"Nah, I was jus tryin ta figur out what ya doin 'ere, Songbird?" I swore violently. Of all the most inconsiderate jerks. Couldn't he at least pretend he didn't recognize me? I glared at him and said,

"My name is _Cards_, if you please." Spot raised an eyebrow. "Is dat so?" I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Why did he have to be so frustrating? I walked over to him, where he stood leaning on his cane. "Just tell me whether you're kicking me out or not." We stood there, as the sun sunk lower in the sky, just looking at each other. He finally said quietly, "What gave ya da idea I was gonna kick you'se out, _Cards_?" He drawled my new name, and I wanted to punch him. He was going to enjoy himself. "All I'se is wonderin now, is why ya pretendin ta be a boy. Anyone wid half a brain, can tell you'se a goil." I snorted, knowing he was lying. I turned towards the door, good and ready to leave when Spot spoke yet again. "Dey all know." I whirled around and stared at him. He smiled that egotistical smile of his. "If only you'se was down dere now, you'd here all da interestin remarks dey're makin. Dey've prolly made up some curious theories by now." He walked past me and opened the door. "If I was you'se, I'd let my hair down, and deal wid da terrible fact dat I'm a goil." He bowed 'gentlemanly' and smirked once again. I scowled at him and stormed down the stairs, all the way hearing Spot's amused laughter.

On the second floor I saw a washroom, and I slipped inside it to wait till Spot had passed. As I was waiting I looked in the mirror. And I realized Spot had been right. I looked nothing like a boy. I quickly snatched the hat off my head and my tangled hair tumbled down. I tried to brush it with my fingers, and then pulled it back into a messy braid. Boy did I look comical. I sighed, very annoyed at my position, and walked back down the stairs. Some of the boys raised eyebrows when I entered, my braid confirmed their theories. But thankfully, no one said anything. I settled down in a corner of the room and just sat there thinking. And time flew by. Before I knew it, all the boys were getting up and heading up stairs. I saw Spot in the thicket and he nodded, showing that I should come along. We reached a room full of bunks and Spot pointed to an empty one. I nodded to show my thanks and quickly laid down on the bed. I got under my thin blanket and closed my eyes. Boy did I have a _lot_ to look forward to. ;-)

So how'd you like it? Do you think I got Spot's character right? Plez review and do tell. Also, just to let you know, I probably won't be updating the next few days, because my older sister is visiting for a few days starting tomorrow. I most likely won't have any time to write, though any time I do I swear I'll be writing, so please don't get mad at me. If you review, though, I will try to stay up late into the wee hours, and write, so PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks!


	7. First Day

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Hi guys! Sorry for the wait, but my sister was home for four days, and then I went up to her apartment for three days. I couldn't get any writing done then. When I got back on Thursday I was at the Shasta County Fair all day, and then I've been writing the last few days. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much to all the WONDERFUL reviews. I really really appreciated them, and they inspire me so much. It is so nice to know that someone likes your story.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies. I know, I know, it's so sad. At least for me. If I owned Newsies I would go around the world writing plays, and skits and stories and all sorts of amazing things but I don't. Do I have to say it anymore? Cause if I do, I'm just gonna cry, and you don't want that to happen. It's not a pretty thing. I love Newsies, and if you sue me for pretending to own it, I will be VERY VERY MAD! Because I can't watch Newsies in jail. I own Songbird, Pest, Buff Guy, and Tall Boy.

I woke up at the sound of someone jumping off the bunk above me, and tumbling to the floor. I slowly opened my eyes to find the room empty. I flung myself out of bed. Everyone was up. I must have slept late! Oh great, first day and I've already failed. I quickly went to the window to see if they were around and noticed that it was barely dawn. I knew the newsies got up early, but _this _early? I shook my head hoping that it was some kind of weird mistake. I rushed to the washroom, splashed my face with ice cold water, definitely waking me up, and redid my braid. That was when I heard voices downstairs. They were quiet, but there were voices. I was getting suspicious, so when I walked down the stairs, I was quiet. I crept down, and listened.

"So sorry bout wakin ya up so oily, but had ta have da talk. Ya don't touch 'er. Ya understand? If ya do, ya gonna wanna trow yaself off da Brooklyn Bridge, before I get ta ya." Spot glared meaningfully at all the Brooklynites. I had realized he was talking about me, I mean obviously, I was the only girl in the lodging house, and that was when I marched down the rest of the stairs, making my presence known.

"So why didn't you boys wake me up? Is it time to sell papers? I'll be right back to finish this lovely conversation." I grabbed Spot by the arm and dragged him out of the lodging house. He was so surprised he didn't even struggle. I turned to him and said,

"I don't know if you were genuinely protecting me when you were telling those boys to stay away from me or not; but either way, that's the most certain way to make them all ignore me. Do you want me to be a stranger here forever? I can handle myself, thank you very much!" I was such a terrible liar. I was expecting Spot to laugh and shove me away, but instead he looked very serious. When he looked me in the eye, my heart suddenly started beating very fast. "Doll, dose guys in dere are tough. Dey don't give a damn bout you, til ya proven yaself. And seein as ya've prolly nevah been on da streets before, dat's gonna be real hard." He paused for a moment. "I don't know what kinda goil you is, but unless you, or I, tell dem to lay off yoa, dey won't. And you could get hoit." I thought, for a split second, that he might be joking. I started to laugh but then I saw his face. It was SO serious. I was kind of freaky. I didn't like it.

"So are there any girl brooklynites?" I knew there weren't, I hadn't seen a single one, but I was so changing the subject. For some reason Spot smiled. It looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Uh, yeah, dere are goils." My eyes widened. "What?" Spot shrugged. "Dey's all ovah in Manhattan." I shook my head, trying to sort it all out. I crossed my arms, feeling more confused than I liked.

"Okay, so if girls live here too, do they all sleep with the boys? I mean, do they sleep in the same _room_ as the boys." Spot laughed at my question. "Uh, no, dey sleep by demselves in da goil's room." I stared at him, my mouth open in shock. There was a girls room? He started to walk away and I grabbed him. He shrugged me off but he turned around. "Hey! What do you mean they're 'all in Manhattan'? And why, why, did you make me sleep in the boys room if there was a girls room?" Spot shrugged again.

"Ya wanted ta join us. Brooklyn isn't some place ya kin jus join. Ya gotta prove yaself. Dat was da foist test." I frowned heavily. "Did I pass?" Spot smirked. "If ya didn't pass, den da test would be impossible." I still couldn't figure out what he meant. "Stop pulling my leg, just tell me!" Spot rolled his eyes. "Only a goil who knows how ta take care of hoiself would sleep in a room full fo Brooklyn boys. So yeah, ya passed." I thought about that for a minute. Spot studied me.

"Why ya here Songboid?" I glared at him. I knew that would come up. Ugh. Couldn't he just except me. "Because I've always _dreamed_ of being a newsie. Why do you think? Cause I suck, and there are too many people in Manhattan who saw my… disaster." Spot didn't say anything. He looked at me forever. We were both still. We didn't blink. Then suddenly Spot broke away, his eyes looking everywhere but me.

"Dis is da deal. Ya sell wit me taday, and we see if ou'se is any good and sellin. Den we see if ya can fight. Dat's when we find out wedder ya pass or ya don't pass." He started to walk off. "Spot!" I called out to him. "What happens if I don't pass?" He turned slowly around. "Ya get 'escorted' outa Brooklyn." I gulped. He smirked and walked up the steps. I stayed outside thinking. There was no way I was gonna pass the fighting test.

I was debating wether I was going to throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge, thank you Spot for the idea, or to go find a gun when the newsies threw open the door and piled out. I was pushed and pulled alon until suddenly I was in a rowdy line. I was squished in between two guys. A really buff guy stood in front of me, and a super tall boy stood behind me. The line moved slowly forward, and I heard "Dat'll be fifty cents!" That was when I remembered that I had no money. And it cost money to buy papers. I swore silently and looked over Buff Guy's humongous shoulder. I was just six people away before it would be my turn.

I tried to shove my way out of the line but there were too many giant tough boys around me. I asked Tall Boy to move, but he just ignored me. Thanks again, Spot. I asked again. Stupid, rude brooklynite. He was forcing me to do this. Not only was I now two people away from buying papers, I was starting to get really claustrophobic. I managed to turn around and knee Tall Boy in the balls. He yelped so loudly it almost blew my eardrums out. He tried to throw a punch at me while holding himself. I ducked and he ended up punching Buff Guy. Buff Guy turned around with a furious look on his face, glaring at Tall Boy. Buff Guy shoved Tall Boy hard, sending him flying into all the boys behind him. They fell over like dominoes. Buff Guy spit at them and turned back around.

Unfortunately, for him, his spit landed on a girl who had just walked up. The intense look of disgust and shock turned to anger and she threw herself on Buff Guy, accidentally stepping on some of the boys' hands. I slipped out of the fight right as it reached its high point. Right as I was about to turn the corner I looked back. I don't know what had happened but now everyone was fighting. I gulped, and ran around the corner. Right into Spot. I fell onto my side and Spot quickly walked around the corner and then back to me. He offered me a hand, laughing hard.

"You'se is quite interstin doll. How on earth did ya start dat and get out of it widout a scratch?" I smiled nervously and shrugged. "I didn't have any money." Spot laughed again. "Well, you'se a woman wid poipouse. And isn't it a good ting I bought extra papes today. C'mon." He walked away, still laughing to himself about me.

I was a failure. At least at making up headlines. Spot couldn't keep that smirk off his face the entire day. And yeah. I said ENTIRE day. He had bought 100 papers and he let me try to sell some. I ended up selling 17. And that was only because of my acting. Spot didn't like me pretending to have a sick little brother and cry to make people buy my papers. He said it wasn't tough. And Brooklyn was tough. The papers I sold were from acting. Not headlines. I was a failure. Finally, after two hours of trying to make up headlines, and not succeeding, Spot took the last three papers and sold them in thirty seconds. He then took me to the docks. It was getting dark, and I shivered in my think shirt.

"You'se terrible." Spot said this in a monotone. "No, really? I sold SEVENTEEN papers!" Spot rolled his eyes. He turned to me, his eyes looking me up and down. "How much ya wanna be a newsies?" I crossed my arms over my chest. He nodded. "I'se gonna make ya a deal." He paused for a moment. "You'll be a Brooklyn newsie, but…" I tensed. 'But's were always bad news. "But you'se has to sing." My mouth dropped.

"I'm NOT going back to Medda's, Spot. You saw me and I'm TERRIBLE!" Spot waved his hand to quiet me. "No ya dumbass, I mean sing for da brooklynites. Some of dem were dere, and I don't care what ya say, we liked ya voice. Ya passed two outa tree test,, and—" I put my hands up. "Hey. I did not pass the newspaper test!" Spot rolled his eyes. "1. Yer not scared of my boys. 2. Ya can fight. 3. Ya can't sell." I raised my eyebrows. I couldn't fight. What was he talking about? Then it struck me. The distribution center. Oh great.

"Spot, if I accept, will I get to sell newspapers my way?" Spot sighed, and nodded. He didn't look too happy about it. "How much will I have to sing, and to whom?" Spot shrugged "Every night a song or two, and ta anyone who is dere." I grimaced. But this was the only way. I stuck my hand out. Spot just nodded and walked away with an amused look. This better not be a trick. ;-)

Hope you liked it! I will try to hurry up on the next chapter. Racetrack, I think, is going to be in it! Yay! I miss him already. Please review! You can always private message me too. I would love to talk with my readers. Thanks!


	8. Racetrack

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Hi! It's only been one day since I last updated! Yay me! Hope you like this next chapter! It has a lot of AWESOME Racetrack in it. Sigh. Where was I? Please enjoy, cause the next chapter has a song in it.

**Disclaimer:** It is 2:45am and I can't think of funny and witty disclaimer so I'm just gonna say, I don't own newsies. You know why? Cause if I did, I would've written Sarah Jacobs out of the script. I do own Pest, Buff Guy, Tall Boy, and of course Songbird.

The next day Pest had to remind me that my (well, Medda's) dress was still at the tailor's. And I just couldn't leave it there. I was Medda's. So after I sold my twenty papers, I skipped lunch and went to the tailors. I put my hair up in my hat and walked in.

"Good day, Sir. I have come to pick up a dress for my sister." I had deepened my voice, and the man looked at me suspiciously. "She dropped it off two days ago." The man still didn't look convinced, but with a lot of help from my acting skills, maybe I could reassure him. The man walked into a back room and came out with the dress. "That'll be two dollars and fifty cents. You have it with you?" I pretended to look shocked. "Don't you know whose dress this is?" The man looked confused. "Think. Who usually gives you dresses like these?" The man raised an eyebrow. "Medda Larkson?" I nodded. "Very good. Now, my sister ran off with one of Medda's dresses, so she is having me pick it up for her. So thank you for everything." I took the dress out of his hands and walked out the door, the man to stunned to move. Then I ran, folding the dress as I went. There was no way that the dress was getting dirty again.

I reached Irving Hall, and tried to push away the bad memories. I walked up the steps, my hands shaking. No one was on the stage so I walked up the steps to Medda's room. I knocked on the door and it swung wide open.

"Songbird! You are back!" I quickly shook my head. "NO. I'm just here to give you your dress back." Medda took my arm and pulled me into her room. "Darling, vat happened Saturday night—" I finished her sentence. "Was awful. I know. I'm awful. That's why I'm resigning. I'm a newsie now, so I won't be bothering you anymore." Medda looked shocked, but I was sure she was really happy and relieved.

"Honey, you just had a bad night. Everyvone does. If you give it another try—" I shook my head, silencing her. "I'm done, Medda." I handed her the dress and walked out before she could say anything. I walked quickly down the stairs, closing the door hard behind me. It just wasn't fair. Everything I had ever dreamed of, was ruined. Now I was a newsies, under the control of Spot Conlon, who thought I could fight, which I couldn't. I was in a pickle, and I wasn't even doing something I loved. I wanted to sing. But I couldn't. There was no way I would if everyone was just going to laugh at me… and scream at me… and… a tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away furiously and shoved open the door out of Irving Hall. I needed to get out of there before I started sobbing.

"Hey." I spun around. It was Racetrack. Damn. Just who I needed to see. Someone to make fun of me for failing. I turned back around and started walking ever faster. "Hey! Song wait up!" I started running as another tear ran down my cheek. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I was forced to stop. Race turned me around and I could see he looked worried. "Songboid, what's da mattah? Ya look terrible!" I tried to shove him away but he held me tightly. "Songboid, you'se is scarin me. Did someone hoit ya?" _Another_ tear slipped down my cheek, but he had my arms and I couldn't wipe it away. "It's nothing. Just… I'm a failure." I whispered the last word, barely able to utter it aloud. Race wiped the tear off my face, and he smiled. "Whatevah gave ya dat idea?" He had me by the shoulders and he looked at me so kindly and caringly with those chocolatey brown eyes that I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears started streaming down my face. Why did I have to be such a big baby? And in front of someone to! I tore away from his grip and started to run again, but he caught my hand. He sat me down on the ground and then he sat too. "Explain. Tell me whatsa mattah." I was so shocked that I had stopped crying for a moment. He nodded, expecting me to tell him. I took a deep breath and started.

"Well, to start it off, I'm a total failure. I tried to sing and everyone thought I was a failure. Secondly, I'm now a newsie under Spot Conlon, who is SO annoying. Thirdly, because I'm ugly. I have big feet, super frizzy and thick hair, a terrible nose, and a horrifying laugh. No one likes me, they just pity me. Spot thinks I can fight, which I can't. And… I miss singing." Race didn't say a thing while I piled all my troubles onto his back. He just sat there listening. He reached over and wiped yet another tear off my face. When he spoke, he spoke with a quiet mature voice.

"Songboid. Ya look at da woild in da wrong way. Ya look at all da bad parts so much dat ya start inventing ones dat don't even exist. You'se an amazing singer; you just had some stupid drunken men in da front row. Dey'll never do dat again. After ya ran out, we gave dem… a talking to. Everyone dere was really mad at dem, and we was all really worried bout you. Ya definitely not ugly! And even if you were, it doesn't matter what ya look like. What matters is who ya are. If yer beautiful in de inside. You have to show the beautifulness dat's inside. Everyone has deir own way of doin it. And yours is singing. Dat's why yer so upset right now. Because you haven't been singing." I sat there with my eyes growing wider and wider. Racetrack was awesome. "Songboid, I have da poifect song for you to sing. And ya don't even have ta sing at Irving Hall, cause yer singin in Central Park. And yer gonna be amazing." Our noses were almost touching now, and suddenly there was a silence. A breathless silence. Race started leaning in closer, I don't know what he was doing, but I in the meantime flung my arms around him.

"Race, you're the best. Thank you so much. You're the best friend I've got, that's for sure. Now what song am I singing?" As I pulled away, and Race told me the song, I couldn't help but notice that he looked disappointed. Sad. But maybe I was just imaging it. ;-)

Hope you liked Race. Do you think I got him right? And what song do you think Songbird is going to sing? Review and let me know! Thanks!


	9. The Party

**Bird Turned Queen**

By: Cards Songbird

Hey! So here is a little in between chapter that isn't the best, but that is needed. Hope you like it. There is another song in it. It was requested by a reviewer, so if you want a song in here just review or private message me and I'll see what I can do. The song, Beautiful, is by Christina Aguilera, and I DON'T it, although I wish I did. It is amazing. After you read this you should look it up on youtube and listen to it. I listen to it every day.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies. Too lazy to say something funny. I own Songbird, Pest, Buff Guy, Tall Guy, and Candy.

So, I was singing. Again. At Central Park of all places. Race said that there was going to be a Newsie party there. He wanted me to sing for it. I wanted to sing for it.

As newsies started arriving from all over the place, I walked over to Racetrack. "Race, I don't want to do this." Race smiled tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Yeah ya do, ya jus noivous. Don worry bout it. Everyone'll love ya. Now, go take deep breaths, cause yer on in five minutes." I walked away trying to look confident. I had borrowed Medda's dress again, Race arranged it; I didn't want to talk to Medda at the moment. After about five minutes Race quieted everyone and started talking.

"Hey ya newsies! Well, we'se all here ta have some fun on this nice evening. Dere's a full moon for any of ya lovahs, and we got ourselves a great singer who is gonna be singing a really great song. So I'd like ta introduce, Songboid!" The chairs were arranged in a circle. I walked into the center. I saw Jack, and Skittery. Spot was there in the front row looking like he owned the place. And there was Race behind everyone, giving me a thumbs up just like last time. I had told Race I wanted no makeup for this song, and my hair was still in a braid, though it was neater than usual. I hadn't wanted to wear the dress, but Race had made me.

Everyone stared at me. Like last time. I tried to sing, but nothing came out. Except a squeak. The newsies laughed. Even Spot. I looked at Race for help. He smiled and winked at me. I smiled suddenly feeling a lot better. I was stupid. This song was about not caring what other people thought of you. And I was going to show that.

"Don't look at me

Every day is so wonderful  
>Then suddenly, it's hard to breathe<br>Now and then, I get insecure  
>From all the pain, I'm so ashamed<p>

I am beautiful no matter what they say  
>Words can't bring me down<br>I am beautiful in every single way  
>Yes, words can't bring me down<br>So don't you bring me down today

To all your friends, you're delirious  
>So consumed in all your doom<br>Trying hard to fill the emptiness  
>The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone<br>Is that the way it is

You are beautiful no matter what they say  
>Words can't bring you down<br>You are beautiful in every single way  
>Yes, words can't bring you down<br>Don't you bring me down today...

No matter what we do  
>No matter what we say<br>We're the song inside the tune  
>Full of beautiful mistakes<p>

And everywhere we go  
>The sun will always shine<br>And tomorrow we might wake on the other side  
>All the other times<p>

We are beautiful no matter what they say  
>Yes, words can't bring us down<br>We are beautiful in every single way  
>Yes, words can't bring us down<br>Don't you bring me down today

Don't you bring me down today  
>Don't you bring me down today"<p>

As I finished no one uttered a sound. Then there was a lone clapper, Race, clapping his heart out. Suddenly, everyone was clapping. They were all cheering like mad. I smiled ecstatically and bowed. I couldn't believe it. They liked it! I bowed again and ran over to Race. I hugged him. "Ya did great, Song! Dat was amazing! Dey loved ya! You'se jus nailed it!" I smiled even more. This is what I'd dreamed of. I then ran over to Jack to say hi, and he said, "You'se an angel! No human could sing dat sweetly!" I laughed and pecked him on the cheek. Jack was always SO nice. I waved at Jack and started walking around when I heard someone clear their voice behind me. I whirled around to find Spot standing there looking smug. Instead of congratulating me he said, "So, ya say ya name's Cards? WE'se playin a pokah game. Care ta join?" And with that, he walked off. It was obvious that he expected me to follow him. Great. I had gotten myself in a picle. I knew NOTHING about poker. I ran after Spot. He sat down at a table that was already seating two people. Racetrack waved and I looked curiously at the girl sitting next to him. She had curly raven black hair that was piled on the top of her head. She had gorgeous grey eyes, and she looked about fifteen. She was laughing at something Race had just said. Maybe Race's girlfriend? Race stood up and said,

"Song, dis is Candy." He gestured to the girl. "She's my little sis." Candy got up and came over and hugged me. "Hey! I know we're going to be BEST friends. Race has told me ALL about you." Race coughed uncomfortably and I smiled. "I'm sure we will. You're the first girl newsies I've met, thanks to Spot." I glared at him. He just smirked and pulled a chair out for me to sit in. "Doll." He nodded his head at me. He was acting unnaturally nice all of the sudden. I nodded my thanks and sat down. Racetrack dealt out the cards. "Hey, isn't Candy playing?" Candy laughed. She had tinkling laugh, if that makes any sense, and it was adorable. "Hell, no! Race just beat all the money out of my pockets. I'm broke." I suddenly felt a blush creep up my neck. "Hey, boys." I squirmed as they looked at me. "I don't have any money either. I used it for lunch today." Spot smiled sweetly and said, "Dat's okay, ya got something else. Let's just say ya give a kiss to da winnah." I rolled my eyes but nodded. I picked up my cards and was immediately lost. By the time Spot laid down his hand declaring himself a winner, much to the disbelief of Racetrack and the amusement of Candy, my head was killing me. Spot was bragging like no one else could, and poor Race's face was flushed red. Candy was laughing at Racetrack and Spot said,

"So, weah's my kiss?" I rolled my eyes again and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Instead my lips met lips. I had never kissed anyone before, but I was guessing that Spot was a really good kisser. His lips were rough, but it was amazing. When I finally broke for air I heard a voice say, "Man, if dat's how ya play pokah, I want in!" I blushed and turned my face away from Spot. I noticed Candy was gone.

"Hey, Race, where did Candy go?" Race looked at me and said, "She needed a drink." His voice had a hard edge to it. He suddenly got up. "I'll leave ya to da 'winnah'. I think I'll be gettin a drink too." He stalked off, looking very upset. What had I done? I guess he was still mad about the game. When I turned back to Spot, he was gone too. I sighed. This was going to be a long night.;-)

So, how was it? Was the kiss too rushed? And poor Race. How do you like Candy? Hope you enjoyed it! By the way, Candy is one of my reviewers. She asked if she could be in my story. So if you want to be in it, just pm me or review! I'll be happy to see if I can put you in! Thanks! PLEASE REVIEW!


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